Don't You Dare Leave Me Like This
by mum-to-you
Summary: In OotP, Arthur Weasley is injured during the course of his duties for the Order. This is the story from Molly's PoV.


Molly Weasley set her teacup on the table and curled up in Arthur's armchair by the fireplace. She tucked the nearly finished rug she was knitting for Ginny's bed up under her feet and gave the fire a poke with her wand to get it going. She shivered and sighed. She never could sleep when he was away.

Not that it happened too very often, but his being in magical law enforcement did mean the occasional nighttime raid. It could be a dangerous job, but so far, Arthur had kept his wits about him. That and his considerable skill with charms and hexes had ensured his safety, even in that raid at the Malfoys a few years ago that had turned so nasty. But the job he was on tonight was another thing altogether.

The house was so quiet with all the children gone. So quiet it unnerved her. Made her recall the myriad dangers her family and loved ones faced, horrors that were never too far from the surface of her consciousness.

"Molly Prewett Weasley," she chastised herself, "you are behaving like a fool. Stop it this instant!" She shook herself, picked up her cup, and walked back towards the kitchen. She knew if she didn't try to get some sleep, Arthur would be annoyed with her. Secretly touched, she thought, but annoyed with her, nonetheless. She had just stepped across the threshold of the sitting room when the chimes from the clock in the corner sounded. She stopped in her tracks.

It could only mean one thing. She willed herself to remain calm and turned slowly to look at the clock. What it told her was that her worst nightmare was beginning. The gold hand embossed with Arthur's name had moved to the place where most clocks read twelve. On this clock, that meant "Mortal Peril." The teacup and saucer slid out of Molly's hand and shattered at her feet.

Her first instinct was to Apparate to the Ministry immediately. Arthur needed her, and she had to go. Dazed, she looked down at the shards of china on the floor and noticed her house slippers. "Merlin," she thought, "I've got to get dressed." She flew up the stairs and jerked open the doors to the wardrobe. By the time she found her day robes, however, she could think more clearly. She couldn't Apparate to the Ministry. "How could it be explained?" she thought. "Arthur wasn't even supposed to be at the Ministry in the first place."

There was nothing she could do, really. Feeling very helpless, she went back downstairs, clutching the banister with white-knuckled hands. When she entered the sitting room, she noticed that Arthur's hand on the clock hadn't moved. A soft hooting drew her attention to the cage hanging by the window. "I could owl Dumbledore!" she thought, "He'll make sure they find Arthur and make it right. He's the only one who can." She quickly dispatched Errol with a note, a pat on the head, and a whispered admonition, "Please, don't let me down now, you silly bird."

She paced for some time in front of the hearth, then threw herself into Arthur's chair and stared at the clock for what seemed an eternity. She considered a cup of tea, but the previous many cups were already boiling up in the back of her throat, and she very nearly gagged. She willed her stomach to be calm and waited. Then finally, something happened. Arthur's hand moved slowly to "Hospital." Molly breathed a tentative sigh of relief. She knew it wasn't exactly good news, but it was better than nothing.

Suddenly, there was a flash of flame in front of the settee, and Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, appeared, carrying a note. Molly seized it immediately, terrified. There was no way Errol had made it to Scotland that quickly. This could only be bad news. She tore open the scroll and read:

_Dear Molly,  
This message is longer than I might wish it to be, but there is a great deal of information to impart for everything to make sense. If as I suspect, you are awake, you know that Arthur has been gravely injured and that he has been taken to St. Mungo's and is now receiving care. I'm sure you realize that your excellent clock can only explain so much, so I must ask you to remain at The Burrow until you are notified by the hospital. I've thought of a way to explain his being at the Ministry in the wee hours of the morning, but it is a fiction that is utterly dependent upon your staying where you are until then._

_I would prefer not to say this in an owl, but my sources tell me things look bad. I tell you only because if you were to find out I hadn't told you the whole truth, I would incur your terrible wrath, which even I would go to great lengths to avoid whenever possible. If I receive any further news, I will, of course, notify you immediately. _

_Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and Harry are with Sirius in London. Fawkes will send a message to them for you if you would like. Harry, apparently, had a vision of Arthur's being attacked, and so I was alerted shortly after it occurred and was able to take immediate steps. We can all be grateful for that scar in this instance, no matter how problematic it might be otherwise._

_Please know you are in my thoughts. Minerva and Filius send their good wishes, as well._

_Albus_

_P.S. I am taking the liberty of sending a message to your son Bill. I will have him meet you at the hospital as soon as he is able to communicate with the other two boys._

It was scant reassurance, but Molly was able to control her panic. It was only a few minutes later that the summons from the hospital arrived. It suggested that loved ones in a highly emotional state should not attempt to Apparate, but Molly disregarded that warning completely. She dashed off a note to Number 12 Grimmauld Place letting the children know that their father was still alive and that they should stay where they were until she contacted them again. Then she Apparated.

Reception at St. Mungo's was deserted, and it was eerily quiet. She made her way over to the witch behind the desk and made her inquiry. She was nice enough about it, but Molly could have used a bit less professionalism and a little more compassion. She sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs provided and waited for the Healer.

He came into the room with a grave look that frightened her. "Mrs. Weasley? I'm Healer Smethwyck. I'm so sorry--"

The color drained from her face. "He's not--"

"No, no, you misunderstand me," he smiled briefly at her and continued. "Please don't jump to unfounded conclusions that will only upset you. Let me explain."

Molly gulped and nodded. "I'm sorry. I've just been so worried."

"Of course you have. I was going to say that I'm sorry we don't really know much about your husband's condition. It appears to have been some sort of serpent bite, but the poison isn't something I've encountered before. It's early going, though. I'm sure we'll get there in the end."

"Can I see him? Can I be with him?"

"Of course, but wait one minute. At this point he is still unconscious. And it's very touch and go."

Molly's already pale face turned to ash, but she remained quiet.

"You can be with him. And he might very well regain consciousness with you there. That will probably be a good sign, and we hope it happens. But--"

Molly had been encouraged by his words, but now she frowned up at him. "But what?"

"Now, I tell you this not to frighten you, but to prepare you. Just in case. It's not unusual for an unconscious or comatose person to come round and talk lucidly, erm, just before, well . . . the end." He glanced up at her and continued hurriedly, "We do not expect that to happen at all, but I thought you should know. Mrs. Weasley, we're doing everything we possibly can."

Molly stared at the man with a shocked look. How could he say such awful things in such a nice manner? She wiped away a tear with a determined set to her jaw and said, "Take me to him. Please."

Healer Smethwyck walked with her to the emergency ward and over to the bed where Arthur lay. He conjured up a chair beside the bed and said, "I'm sure you want some privacy." With a wave of his wand he drew the curtain and gave her a wan smile before he left her alone with her husband.

She looked apprehensively at his still form lying on the bed and stifled a sob. There was no doubt about it. He looked dead. It was only on closer inspection that she could see his chest rising and falling shallowly under the sheet as he struggled to breathe. She bent down over the bed and kissed his temple, then smoothed a few strands of hair that were out of place.

"Oh, Arthur, you big git," she whispered. "Why did you want to go and scare me like this?" Tears spilled over onto her cheeks as she began speaking softly in his ear. She told him about her day, what chores she had gotten done, how much she had progressed on Ginny's rug, what she had planned for supper, about the yard gnome who'd had the nerve to look in the kitchen window and make faces at her. She prattled on and on, inanity after inanity, verging on hysteria, then stopped suddenly and broke down.

For the longest time, she sobbed out her fears and fatigue into a soggy handkerchief, and then just as suddenly, she shuddered to a stop with a gulp of air. She reached over and took Arthur's hand in both of hers and gazed at him for several minutes. "Right after we got married, Arthur, do you remember when we promised each other that we'd have to go out together in a ball of fire so the other would never have to be alone? We promised," she murmured through her tears. "Don't you dare leave me like this, Arthur, or I shall be very put out with you for breaking your promise."

Tears coursed down her woebegone face. Then she brought his hand up to her lips, planted a soft kiss on his palm, and closed his hand into a fist against her cheek so the kiss couldn't escape. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, love. We were supposed to be really, really old. We were going to give Bill the house and retire to someplace on the seaside, remember? Somewhere the grandchildren could come and visit. Arthur, we don't even have the grandchildren yet, so you have to stay with me!"

As she held his hand, she felt the fingers open slowly and caress her wet cheek. When she looked over and saw his open eyes, she knew the most terrifying moment of her entire life. She knew there was a chance she only had a few minutes left, hoping and praying it wouldn't be like that, but not knowing. There was so much to say, and she couldn't even form the words.

"Had you going this time, didn't I, Mollywobbles?" he whispered weakly. She nodded and smiled through her tears.

"I love you, you big git. You know that, don't you?" she said softly. He moved his thumb across her cheekbone in answer.

"Arthur, I know I don't tell you this often enough," she continued, the words rushing out, "but I am so proud of you, as a husband, as a father, for all you've accomplished. I--"

Arthur managed a lopsided grin. "Stop it, Molly. You sound as if you're saying goodbye." He coughed weakly before continuing, "I don't think I'm quite ready to cash it in just yet."

Molly gulped back a sob. "I should go get that nice healer who--"

"Molly," he insisted and slipped the hand on her cheek behind her head and pulled her closer, "Torquay or Brighton?"

"What, love?" she asked with a blank look.

"To retire to. Torquay or Brighton?" he smiled at her, and a little color started returning to his face. "I'm not leaving you, Molly."

Molly leaned over and kissed him and held up her hand with her little finger extended. Her eyes filled with tears again, and she said, "Pinky swear?"

He hooked his little finger with hers and shook it firmly. "Pinky swear."

The rest of their fingers intertwined, and they sat together in a kind of sacred silence until the curtain around the bed parted and a head poked in. "Ah, you are awake. Excellent." A man walked in with his hand extended and said, "Augustus Pye, Trainee Healer. Mrs. Weasley, your son is here. And now that the mister is awake, we really do need to be getting on with some things."

Molly kissed Arthur on the cheek and let the Trainee Healer walk her back to the reception room. Along the way, he turned to her and said, "It's looking better, Mrs. Weasley, but he's not out of the woods yet. I don't want to mislead you. We still have to get the bleeding stopped--I have some ideas about how to do that--and we have to trace that poison. But there's a good deal more hope than a few hours ago."

As she entered the waiting room, Bill stood up, strode across the floor, and embraced her tightly. "Mum, what's going on? How's dad?"

She looked up at her eldest son and reached up with her hand to pat him on the cheek. "We're hoping for the best. He's conscious now, but there's a way to go yet." She looked around the room and asked, "Where's Percy?"

Bill looked down at his boots before replying, "I--I don't know, Mum."

"You did send him an owl?"

"Of course I did, Mum." He looked at her with concern.

"But, surely, he wouldn't . . . not now, not for this--" her voiced cracked and trailed off.

Bill just shrugged and put his arm around his mother's shoulders. She reached out and took his hand. "Bill, I feel so small and helpless, and here you are all grown up and taking care of me. When did I get so old?"

He gave her hand a squeeze and said, "You've had a rough night. Maybe by tomorrow, the prodigal will have made an appearance and you'll feel better."

Molly turned and looked up into her oldest son's face. "It sounds as if I'm only concerned about the one who's not here and not appreciating the one who is, doesn't it? I'm so sorry, Bill. That's not it at all. I'm just so surprised that he didn't--" She shook her head. "Bill, your being here means more to me than you can ever know." She laid her head against wearily against him, and he held her close. It did seem as if their roles were reversed. He gently guided his mother over to a chair and offered to get her a cup of tea. She shook her head and patted the seat next to her, saying, "Just sit with me. I've done all my sitting and waiting alone tonight, and this is much better."

They made several attempts at conversation, but all of them failed. She managed to get out the story of Harry's involvement in the ordeal, but that was all. In the end they just sat quietly, nervously, hopefully, waiting on some news. At about 4:30 in the morning, Healer Smethwyck came into the waiting room with a smile on his face. The news was good. "We've managed to get the bleeding stopped with charmed bandages, and we've given him a potion to counter the effects of the blood loss. We can move him up to a ward this afternoon," the Healer explained, "All that's left is to figure out what's in that venom that keeps it from healing completely. We've given him a bit of a sleeping draught to help with the pain, and if you'll make sure he finishes that before you leave, it'll ensure he sleeps well for few hours. He's tired, but awake and fairly alert. I think he'd like to see you both."

They hurried back to the emergency ward with big grins. Arthur's face lit up when he saw Bill. "Taking good care of your mother, son?" he asked.

"Yes, he is, Arthur, and I can't say I like it one bit. Makes me feel old and feeble."

"Go on with you, then. How do you think I feel?" he countered with a grin.

"How are you, Dad?"

"Been better, been better. But it was a damn sight worse a few hours ago. Where are the children?"

"Here in London," Molly said with a pointed look. Arthur nodded as if he understood. She turned to Bill and asked, "Can you go over to the house and let them know?" Bill frowned.

"Mum, if I show up, they'll think you _can't_ come because something bad's happened. It'll scare them to death. They need to hear from you, you know?"

"Go to the children, Molly. I'll be fine. But bring them in later today, please."

"Besides," Bill put in softly so no one could overhear, "If I stay this morning, Dad and I can talk about things. He can tell me what's what, and I'll tell him what you told me in reception. Then, I can report to Dumbledore all the sooner."

"And you should get some sleep, Molly. It'll keep you from being so cranky."

"All right, you two, I get the picture," Molly acquiesced. Then she reached over and pinched Arthur's toe, hard. "Let's get the rest of that potion down him, then."

Arthur struggled to sit up, but couldn't quite manage it. Bill bent down and easily lifted his father to a sitting position and supported him while Molly raised the cup to his lips for him to drink. Then Bill gently lowered him back to the pillows.

"Okay, Dad, start talking. We've a lot of ground to cover before that potion takes effect."

Before she left, Molly kissed them both on the cheek and said, "I can see I'm out of a job here for now. I'll come back later with the children."

It was a little after five o'clock in the morning, and Molly yawned. She knew full well when she opened the door that the children would be up, worried sick. They got that from her. Tired, but happy, she swung open the kitchen door and with a wan smile announced, "He's going to be all right."


End file.
